


Sterek Drabbles

by TheeSourwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:52:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheeSourwolf/pseuds/TheeSourwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbledrabbledrabble. Gonna put this here for my friend, since she wanted to read it. May just put all of the things that like to pop into my head here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sterek Drabbles

Stiles shrank back, flinching as Derek move toward him. 

"Stiles... I'm not going to hurt you."

Biting his lip, nearly hard enough that it bled, Stiles attempted to hold back tears. Derek's dark eyes met his, searching for something. Anything. 

"Derek. I-I-I..." Stiles trailed off, his voice shaking along with his body. This time, as Derek closed the space between them, he offered no resistance. Strong, warm arms wrapped around him and he melted, Derek's breath on his ear. Choking down his emotions again, Stiles turned, burying his head in Derek's chest. 

"Whatever it is, tell me," Derek demanded softly; Stiles could feel his torso rumbling with the words. Another moment of silence passed and Derek spoke again, pulling Stiles back by his shoulders until he could look him in the eye. "Stiles. Please."

At that simple request, Stiles' dam crumbled. Tears hot behind his eyelid, he buried his face in his hands. 

"Derek..." He choked out after a sob, "I thought... I thought I was going to die. I-I-I thought I was going to die in there. You know what that feels like for a human? To have that... Constantly over your neck. Like a noose waiting to be tightened. I can't heal myself. I can't kill a full grown man as easily as opening a pickle jar. I'm not like.... like you guys." 

Derek silenced Stiles by pulling him into his arms again. Squeezing him gently, he kissed the top of his head. 

"Stiles. I will make you a promise. I promise you, that as long as I am around, nothing will happen to you. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Stiles nodded, his face still hiding in Derek's now-soaked shirt. They stood like that for who knows how long, until Stiles' breathing steadied. Derek patted his back gently and started humming softly. The lullaby his mother used to sing. She'd scare away the monsters in the dark with it; at least, he'd thought so when he was just a kid. Stiles held his breath for a moment, just listening, before joining in. As the soothing tune ended, Stiles pulled away, his eyes still red around the edges and looking down. Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Stiles beat him to it. 

"Your mom, too." It wasn't a question. Derek nodded, a mixture of grief and sympathy on his features, his lips flattening into a thin line. Stiles smiled softly at the memory, "Just that song got me through so much. Even after..." Stiles trailed off, swallowing the lump in his throat. He hadn't discussed his mom with many people. He guessed Derek hadn't either, by the way his jaw was set as if to chew up any feelings that dared rise. He raised his eyes to Derek's face and found his eyes just a little red, too. Stiles curled back into the man's arms, his breathing slow. 

"You know, we're not so different, you and me."

\--------------------------

Stiles pulled the Jeep to the shoulder of the road, cursing loudly as he did so. He loved the piece of shit, he really did, but at the rate stuff was breaking, he'd have no car in two weeks. Braking her slowly to a stop, he climbed out of the vehicle, automatically strolling to the hood and opening it. Stiles wasn't a car whisperer - the most he'd done was change the damn oil - and he couldn't decipher whatever message the engine was trying to send him by spewing steam from several different places. Throwing his hands up in frustration, he pulled out his phone, dialing his dad's number. The sheriff answered, not sounding amused in the least. 

"What is it now, Stiles?"

Stiles released a breathy laugh and responded as cheerily as possible. 

"Well, dad, my wonderful mode of transportation seems to have committed ritual suicide."

"Again? This is the fourth time in a month." His father groaned, the sound of his palm hitting his forehead was almost audible on Stiles' end. 

"I don't know what's wrong with the thing! The mechanic is starting to give me funny looks whenever I show up." Stiles sighed, shutting the hood and leaning on it, "Can you call the towing guy? He knows my name and my car by now...."

There was a moment of silence and then a grunt.

"I'll get right on it, son. Don't get kidnapped or something ridiculous while you wait."

"Love you, too, dad."

Click. The sheriff hung up as Stiles shoved his phone into his pocket, grumbling about the world's hatred of him. He climbed back into the driver's seat to wait on the chariot that would help him. 

\----------

The ride to the mechanic was jut as awkward as the previous three. Stiles sat in the passengers seat, drumming awkwardly on the car door. He thanked several different deities when they arrived, exiting the tow truck as quickly as he could without offending the driver. As his jeep was hauled into the garage, he strolled into the building. A pair of incredulous eyes met him as he entered. 

"Stilinski! What the hell, dude? What are you doing to that poor jeep of yours to get her to break down so much?" 

"I'm not trying Andy! Seriously, she just keeps... Doing this!" Stiles said, exasperated. The man behind the counter rolled his eyes. 

"Sure, man. Whatever, but Tony isn't working today. So, the new guy's back there looking at your car."

Stiles nodded and started toward the door into the garage. Watching the guys work on the jeep was what he always did, grabbing tools for them and whatnot. He let the door swing shut behind him and shoved his hands in his pockets, remembering Tony's constant threat: "Fuck anything up and I'll kill you with a goddamn wrench." The jeep was the only vehicle in the shop, so Stiles wandered over, leaning against the wall closest to the hood. 

"Can I help you?" A voice sounded from under the jeep's front axle. Stiles' brow shot up. 

"Uh.. This is my car?" Was his only response, cursing the car for having something go wrong on Tony's off day. The man rolled out from beneath the vehicle, a scowl adorning his face. Stiles' breath caught in his throat. Beneath the oil and grime, he could see a well-sculpted jaw and the perfect amount of stubble. The tag on his shirt read "Derek." 

"Ok? What do you want?" He pressed, waving a wrench in the air to add emphasis. Stiles shrugged, glancing up at his car. 

"I can't sit still in the waiting room, so Andy lets me come back here and not touch anything. More interesting than fucking magazines." At that, Derek's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing. Stiles sighed, scratching the back of his neck. 

"I don't like company, kid."

Kid? That was a low blow. Stiles was probably five years younger, if he had to guess. 

"Oh? Too bad, dude. Andy said I could. So, I will." Stiles responded, crossing his arms over his chest. The man's brows shot up. Murderous didn't look half bad on him. Derek managed to hold back, probably for the sake of his job. 

"Whatever. Just don't fucking touch anything." He muttered, rolling back under the jeep. Stiles made a face as he did so, mouthing the words mockingly.


End file.
